Dandelion Clocks
by Coyote Phillips
Summary: CHAPTER 2 UP! A young Frank and Joe spend a week with their maternal grandparentsand while exploring discover that their grandparents harbour a secret that they don't want the boys to know about. Takes place when the boys are 8 and 10.
1. Friday Night, Saturday Morning

Chapter 1

Saturday Morning

* * *

**Frank**

Finally! For three glorious months I'm _two_ years older than Joe, who's still only eight. Joe even chipped in and helped Mom and Dad get me the best chess set ever, just for today for my tenth birthday. It's exactly like the one Phil and I were looking at when we were in the mall at the toy store, Jeepers. For the knights, instead of the typical horse head like what normal chess sets have got, this one is an actual horse and knight, both in that weird armour they used to wear. And it says on the box that the rook is modelled after…let me check the name….Dolwyddelan Castle in some country called Wales! So every time I play chess now, it's like holding a nine-hundred year old artefact in my hand. Phil was over tonight after dinner and we played a game with my new set, but he ended up creaming me because Joe kept giving me "helpful advice." Brothers!

Now I'm supposed to be sleeping because tomorrow we have to get up early to go to Grandmother and Granddad's—Joe and I are spending a week there. Maybe Grandmother can show us how she does her fancy eggs—Grandmother came from Ukraine after World War I, when she was a teen. I'm too excited to sleep, though. First my chess set and now we get to go stay with Grandmother and Granddad for a week!

* * *

**Joe**

"Joey, time to get up," Mom's voice said. I started to roll over and go back to sleep, but then I remembered what we were doing today. We're going to go stay with Grandmother and Granddad for a week! A whole week!

When I got downstairs, Mom had breakfast ready. Usually it's a pretty big fare, because both Frank and I eat a lot, but that day it was just eggs and toast and oatmeal. Blech—I _hate_ oatmeal! 

"Grandmother said that she'll have breakfast ready when we get there," Mom said apolo- well, anyway, it sounded like she was sorry about us not getting as much as normal for breakfast.

I grinned at that as I took the piece of toast with the most butter on it—Grandmother's breakfasts for us are always enormous, with pancakes and waffles and home fries and omelettes and her famous sweet rolls. And at Christmas they're even bigger, if that's possible.

"Wh-wh-where's Dad?" Frank asked around a yawn, coming into the kitchen.

"Some stuff came up last night and he had to go down to the station this morning," Mom said, putting a plate in front of each of us. She'd made us fried eggs. I like those _lots_ better than the oatmeal.

"Oh," Frank said, and sat down next to me—he's the closest to Dad of the two of us.

**

* * *

**

Frank

When we were done eating, Mom sent us upstairs to pack. I already had my duffle bag ready, but Joe was still scrambling around his room and the whole house in general, trying to get everything that he wanted. I had my duffle bag and a backpack with my chess set, baseball gear, and my dinosaur books, which Granddad got me for Christmas. They're really cool and give details about every dinosaur that ever lived, even the crocodiles and alligators.

From the sounds of it, Joe's tried to pack his Play Station. Yep—I can hear Mom yelling at him from down the hall. It might be a while before we leave.

Finally we were ready to go, but Dad wasn't back yet, so Mom left him a note on the kitchen table. We piled our duffels into the back of the car. By the time we'd reached the end of Bayport, Joe was asleep. About time, too, because he was really starting to annoy me!

The drive to Grandmother and Granddad's takes about two hours. They live in a tiny town in New Jersey called Portsmouth, and it's so tiny that downtown Portsmouth is a post office and two Pepsi machines. Our older cousin, Jake, says that it's got a feed mill and a lumber mill, two, but other than that, there's _nothing_ to Portsmouth. Not that I mind, really, because sometimes I get to feeling cooped up living in the city.

Grandmother and Granddad live twenty minutes outside of Portsmouth, way out in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive down this long dirt road about fifteen minutes, then turn into another dirt road that's called Blackberry Lane. It's not even a dirt road; it's more a gravel driveway that goes on forever and ever and ever. Both sides are lined with trees and blackberry bushes, and some Christmases I can remember having to walk down Blackberry Lane to get to the house. That can take two hours sometimes! The nights are so clear there, too. Granddad says that that's because there aren't any lights around for miles and miles and miles to block the stars. There's lots more stars at Grandmother and Granddad's house than there are at ours, too.

**

* * *

**

Joe

When Frank poked me in the ribs to wake up, we were already at Blackberry Lane. "Joey, we're there," he said.

I looked out the window at the trees as we drove down the lane. It's August, so the blackberries are starting to ripen. "Maybe Grandmother will let us go berry-picking," I said hopefully.

Frank caught the tone. "You would think that," he said, grinning. "Last time we went berry-picking up here, you ate so many blackberries you got sick!"

"I was only six then!" I argued. "I'm eight now!"

"Boys!" Mom said in that don't-argue-now tone that she seems to use on us all the time.

"I can't wait to go play in the creek," I said. "Think Grandmother will let us do that this week at all?"

"Even if she didn't, you'd still find a way to do that," Frank said.

Up ahead, the trees weren't as thick as they'd been. A few minutes later, we could see Grandmother and Granddad's farmhouse and the barn and their gardens and a big field of sunflowers.

"I'll see you Sunday, okay?" Mom said when she'd dropped us off at the front porch. Grandmother was sitting on the swing out front, shelling peas. Granddad was beside her, whittling. They both got up and came to greet us when we got out of the car.

"Okay, Mom," Frank said.

"Stay for breakfast, Laura?" Grandmother asked.

Mom shook her head. "I've got to get back, Mother. Fenton'll be waiting for me. He had to go into the station this morning. You two behave yourselves now," she told me and Frank.

"Don't worry about them, Laura! They'll be fine," Grandmother said, giving Mom a goodbye-hug. Granddad put away his knife and wood and took our duffle bags for us.

"C'mon, big'uns," he said. "Let's get you settled in."

I didn't move—I was watching Mom turn the car around and head back down the driveway. Suddenly it seemed like a _very_ long time until next Sunday.


	2. Saturday Morning, Part II

Chapter 2

Saturday Morning, Part II

**

* * *

A/N: I should warn you guys now, this is going to seem really out of cannon as far as the books are concerned. The reason: watching the movie _Everything is Illuminated_ in my History of the Ukraine class. **

**And a note about some comments I received concerning ages: It's kind of illogical to assume that the boys are _exactly_ a year apart. I played around with that idea, making the two boys a year and a couple months apart, because we rarely see that sort of thing on here. And if the boys are a year and a few months apart, then at one point, Frank has to be at an age that's considered two years older than Joe, if that makes sense :)**

**One last note: I've got finals coming up in a couple of weeks, so it may be until at least after Christmas until I can update :(**

**

* * *

**

Frank

When I came downstairs after breakfast and after Granddad had taken me and Joe to our rooms and I had put my clothes away, Grandmother was trying to put a garbage bag in the trash bin and muttering to herself in Ukrainian. Then she switched to English. "Leave it to Sefran to buy small trash bags when I specifically tell him to get the _large_ ones," she said. She finally got the trash bag the way she wanted it and shoved the bin back under the sink, giving it a kick that echoed against the metal. "And _behave_ next time, please!" she told it, wiping her hands on a half-apron she'd tied around her waist.

"Who's Sefran?" I asked.

Grandmother jumped. I don't think she knew I was there. "Your grandfather, of course," she said.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Grandmother told me, turning to a sink full of apples and picking up an apple in one hand and a knife in the other. She started to peel the skin from it.

"What was it like in Ukraine, before the war?"

Grandmother got real quiet-like, and concentrated on peeling the apple. After a while, when I thought she wasn't going to answer and I had turned to go, she said, "Go see if your brother is finished putting his things away, Frank."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, and hurried upstairs.

* * *

Joe was laying stomach-down on his bed, reading a sports book. 

"Grandmother's being weird," I said, sitting down next to him.

He looked up at me. "What do you mean?"

"I tried asking her about Ukraine and what it was like before World War Two, and she didn't answer me. She just sent me up here to see if you had finished unpacking yet."

"She and Granddad are Jewish," Joe said, turning back to his book.

"What?"

He nodded. "I heard Mom talking to Dad about it a couple days ago. She said that Grandmother and Granddad switched to being Christian when they came to America. I guess they didn't want to remember their past."

I stared at my brother. Normally, he's not this smart about things like this. _But what was it in their past that they didn't want to remember?_ I sort of knew about World War Two and that it wasn't very nice to the Jews, but other than that, I didn't know anything about that part of it at all.

"Hey, Frank, how about we explore a little bit? We haven't even seen the attic yet. I bet there's lots of neat stuff up there."

I shrugged. "Okay," I said. "I'll go down and tell Grandmother you're unpacked."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not, but don't tell her that."

* * *

The attic was dark and dusty, like attics usually are, I guess. There was a light switch near the door, and I turned it on, and the attic wasn't nearly as dark as before with a tiny overhead light on, but it was still pretty dark. Over in one corner there were boxes and boxes, all of them covered with dust. 

Joe pointed to them. "Let's look there first," he said. "Maybe we'll find some treasure."

I shrugged. It seemed like there was something else in the attic with us, but I didn't know for sure. I felt weird, too, like old memories were trying to come out but I couldn't remember them.

Joe went over to the boxes and scanned the labels on them. "Here's a photo album," he said, surprised, pulling it from between some of the boxes. He wiped the dust off it. "Who's Anna?" he asked.

"I dunno," I said, coming over and looking at the label. _Anna Andrykovich_. I couldn't pronounce the last name. "Let's look inside it." I took it and sat down on a green trunk that had rusty silver decorations all along the sides and a big silvery lock that was also all rusty.

Right there, on the very first page, there was a Star of David necklace that near slid into my lap. The words _Babi Yar_ were written next to it, in neat printing, on a yellow piece of notebook paper, along with _Taras, Baruch, Ivan_. Underneath the necklace was a picture of a cemetery surrounded by barbed wire, and there was a German soldier standing off to one side. For some reason, I got a real creepy feeling looking at that picture. "Let's not," I said, and closed the album, putting it back where Joe had found it.

There were other albums there. One was labeled _Anna, age 17._ It was full of pictures of a pretty woman.

"That's Grandmother!" Joe said suddenly.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It doesn't look at all like her."

"Well, duh, she's young here. But it's her. I know it is!"

"Who's Taras?" I wondered aloud, reading one of the names in the album. _That name had been in the other album, too_, I suddenly realised.

"And who're Baruch and Ivan?" Joe asked. Those people were in the album with Anna.

"I know a way we can find out," I said. "Let's go find Grandmother."

* * *

"Grandmother, what's Babi Yar?" I asked her—she was still in the kitchen peeling apples. 

She dropped the apple and knife in the sink and turned to us. "You know about Babi Yar?" she said softly.

I shook my head. "Joe wanted to explore, and we went up to the attic. We found a photo album with a Star of David necklace on the first page and a cemetery underneath it. Who're Taras and Baruch and Ivan? And who's Anna Andry..kovich?" I stumbled over that last word, but I felt I'd gotten it right.

Grandmother took us and sat us down at the table and she sat down across from us. "Never go up to the attic again," she told us, looking each of us in the eyes. I squirmed, feeling guilty about snooping around. "You're too young, you wouldn't understand it."

"I'm sorry, Grandmother," I said quietly.

Why didn't Grandmother want us in the attic?


	3. Early Saturday Afternoon

Chapter 2

Saturday Afternoon

A/N: Sorry for the delay, and sorry it's so short!

**Frank**

"I wish we knew who Taras Krushevnya is," I said, kicking at a green apple that was in my way. We were in Grandmother and Granddad's orchard.

"Or why Grandmother doesn't want us going up to the attic," Joe added thoughtfully.

"It scares her," I said, leaning against an apple tree that was all wrapped with wild grapevines. "Well, maybe not _scare_, but she doesn't want to talk about it."

"Hey, look," Joe said suddenly, pointing toward one of the pastures. The pasture he was pointing at isn't a very big pasture, just enough for a cow and two horses. "There's Granddad. Want to ask him?"

**Joe**

Frank and I ran across the orchard, cutting around the garden. Granddad was carrying two buckets of water to the animals.

"What's the matter with you, now?" Granddad asked as we came running up. "The Wild Hunt after you?"

"The _what_?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Who's Taras Krushevnya?" Frank demanded before Granddad could explain what the Wild Hunt was.

"Your grandmother's cousin," he said. "We met in Ukraine, in Kiev. He introduced me to your grandmother. She and I were married in Odessa, then we lived in Trachimbrod with my mum, your great-grandmother, until we moved to America."

"Oh," Frank said.

Well, one question answered.

"What's Babi Yar?" I asked.

"Something that would give you nightmares, both of you," Granddad said as he poured the water in the buckets into a trough just inside the fence. "Back to the house with you, go on!"

We went.

"That was weird," I said when we were back in my room. (Why is it that every time we talk Frank is always in _my_ room but I'm never in _his_?) 

Frank didn't say anything. He only shrugged.

* * *

Wild Hunt- A hunt comprised of Wild Men. Attributed to German faerie tales. 


End file.
